Red like Roses
by Transparent-but-Opaque
Summary: When Renesmee Cullen befriends Amelia Rose, she changes her life forever. But when Amelia's secret talents are exposed, some old 'friends' of the Cullens come calling...
1. Chapter 1: Gym

The first time I ever saw Renesmee Carlie Cullen was one windy October afternoon, in Gym.

I hate gym. Not only am I physically incapable of kicking a soccer ball straight across a soccer field, I also stink at football, lacrosse, volleyball, and all those other multi-player sports. The only sport I have a chance in is tennis. I think it has something to do with the fact that tennis can be played with only one person on each team. There is less coordinating with everyone else and more making your own decisions. I've always been independent.

So, on one windy October afternoon, I made my way across the dull, cracked grey parking lot to the gym. I was in a bad mood. I'd bombed my latest math test and gotten an F. I'd also tripped over my own feet on the way out the door. The same thing had happened in English. Clumsy, that's me!

I lined up outside the tall, dirty cream-colored building. The gym didn't belong to our school. It belonged to the church right next to it. Our school, being in it's temporary location, didn't have the money or the license to build it's own gym. However, once in the permanent location, we'd apparently have a plethora of sporting fields. I'd seen the blueprint drawings; it looked like there was going to be four basketball courts, a soccer field, and a football field. Huh.

I shivered as a blast of icy wind whipped around me like a full-blown tempest. Autumn in Denver, Colorado was always windy. My classmates chattered around me as I tried to ignore the cold. My best friend, Sarah, wasn't in the same Gym class as me. Unsurprisingly, I didn't have _any_ friends in Gym.

My best friend was about my 5'1" height, with naturally light brown hair. She'd dyed it darker for Halloween, which was just around the corner. Sarah had light green eyes. Actually, no one could figure out exactly the color of Sarah's eyes. Her pupils were the darkest black, contrasting sharply with the light green around them, which gradually faded into a darker greenish gold. My own eyes were different colors too, but not in the cool way, like Sarah's. My hazel eyes were boring, just like my dark brown hair and dark eyebrows were.

The door to the gym opened suddenly, revealing a red-haired, freckled Coach Stephens.

"How many minutes today?" asked a boy in front of me jokingly. All the boys were friends with Coach Stephens.

"Nine minutes," replied Coach Stephens. "Ladies first…"

We all filed past him into the gym. The smell of rubber and sweat drifted to my nose unpleasantly as I began to jog. At a normal school, I would have gone into the locker rooms and changed into my sports uniform. But we didn't have sports uniforms at Ponderosa High School. Not to mention locker rooms.

Coach Stephens aimed a tiny remote control at his Ipod, turning it on. The speakers behind it blared to life, playing some high energy, quick-beat song. Coach Stephens approved of listening to music while exercising. He said it got your adrenaline up. Whatever.

As I ran past the cart on which the Ipod was sitting on, I heard a quick line of the song crash past my ears, and then I was past it.

_Went the distance; now I'm not gonna stop…_

It was Eye of the Tiger, a song I'd heard a million times before. I reached my hands up to the back of my head as I ran, tying my shoulder-length hair up into a ponytail. I'd forgotten to take off my long-sleeved red sweatshirt before I had started to run. I was going to become pretty hot. I could hear the person behind me panting. We had to run in a single file line. If anyone stopped, we'd have to start the nine minutes over again. I blew past the cart again.

_Build me a, build me a buttercup, baby…_

Yeah, Coach Stephens had a lot of weird songs on his Ipod. I tried to take my mind off the way I was starting to really have to pull to breathe. I could feel a stitch building in my side. My legs felt like lead as I ran around and around and around the gym…

After what seemed like forever, Coach Stephens blew his whistle. Everybody stopped, all in various states of exhaustion. I swallowed with difficulty as I stripped off my sweatshirt at last. I was wearing a black t-shirt with a butterfly design on it.

The whole class gathered in the center of the gym to hear what torture Coach Stephens had lined up for us today. When I heard, I groaned. Soccer. Great.

We divided into teams, each team putting on a different colored jersey. I was on the green team. Whoop-di-doo.

The said coach blew his whistle and the game began. Usually I stayed out of the way during games, hoping that no one would pass the ball to me. Sometimes I involved myself in the game, tried to make myself noticed, but it always ended in disaster. I simply wasn't meant for sports.

I darted around the fringes of the game, avoiding attention, and pretending I didn't notice when anyone in possession of the ball looked at me. However, sometimes it was inevitable that I would get caught up in the fray. This was one of those times. The one time the ball was passed to me, I missed it completely. It traveled past me and hit an unsuspecting player.

I became more and more frustrated as the game went on. Why couldn't I have enough hand-eye coordination to at least kick a ball? I was so absorbed in my depressing thoughts that I wasn't really aware of my surroundings. Suddenly the ball was under my feet. I slipped as my feet found its surface. I skidded, and suddenly I was crashing down. It was a good thing I was wearing long jeans, not a skirt, or my underwear would have made a startling appearance. As it was, I hit the ground with a thump, on my left elbow.

Of course, nobody stopped to see if I was all right. Coach Stephens wasn't paying any attention to the game or to me, either.

But somebody _had_ seen, and somebody _had_ stopped. As I held my throbbing elbow, somebody reached down their hand to help me up. And I took it.


	2. Chapter 2: Who is she?

As I straightened up, I gasped. The girl before me was beautiful, unimaginably beautiful. She looked like an angel. No, she was millions of times more beautiful than an angel. Her shiny curls were the silkiest shade of molten copper that I could imagine. They had lighter, almost blond roots that made her hair look almost like a dark shade of strawberry blond. Her angelic locks reached halfway down her back in a gorgeous bronze waterfall of color.

Her eyes were the shade of melted milk chocolate. They were startlingly large and bright. Her full lips were a gentle shade of shell pink, curving over her pearl-white teeth, which were just visible through the slight smile that graced her lips like a ray of sunshine. Her skin was alabaster, pale except for the rosy blush, which crept slowly up her cheeks as I watched like an idiot. She was perfectly formed in every way, all the way to the manicured hand that gripped my own.

I suddenly became aware of her contact. I took a sharp intake of breath as it hit me that her hand was warm, unnaturally warm. In fact, it was almost hot. And it definitely wasn't because she was sweaty, because she wasn't sweaty. She wasn't sweaty at all. And I wasn't sweaty either—no, no—wait!

Suddenly, almost as if the girl's face was a mirror, I saw my own face reflected in my mind, from her eyes. I could see myself, so stunned, so ordinary… no, it wasn't a reflection, it was the way other people saw me. I was seeing myself, from her point of view.

Suddenly her hand was gone, ripped from my grasp effortlessly. I was back, watching the world from my own eyes. But before I had the chance to do anything, she was gone, running—no, dancing—away to rejoin the rest of my class. I was left alone, standing stupidly in the middle of the gym while everybody else was running around wildly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Coach Stephens give me a weird look. Hastily, I ran to the other end of the gym and tried to look as if I wasn't preoccupied with impossibly tangled thoughts.

Who was she? How could she possibly be so beautiful? Where did she come from? Why had I never seen her before? Was she new? Being late to school, I hadn't been in homeroom to hear my teacher introduce her. And the most important question of all… how had she done the mind-switch thing? Even though I tried to convince myself that it was just my imagination, I couldn't shake the feeling that the girl had actually caused it. It was stupid… it had probably just been me, making things up.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye. Her bronze hair bounced as she chased after the ball. She was in the thick of the game, obviously a dab hand at soccer. She didn't pay me any attention. She didn't come near me, didn't look at me, nothing.

Somehow, I made it through the rest of Gym without any disasters happening. It was definitely a surprise that, although I was more preoccupied and accident-ready than ever, I still didn't take any falls. A miracle, perhaps? That was a first.

Finally, Coach Stephens decided that class was over. Since we didn't have an intercom system in the gym, it was up to the teachers to remember when class time was up. Of course, Coach Stephens forgot to check his watch and ended up sending us back five minutes late.

As I sprinted back across the parking lot back to the main school building, I looked for the strange girl in the crowd of students. She wasn't there, or at least I couldn't find her. Strange.

I made my way through the crowded halls. The end of the day always was rush hour in the halls. Since the temporary building had been an office one before, the hallways weren't build for hundreds of students to push through.

I scanned the heads of the milling students, searching for a copper-colored one. There! I saw a head of bright, bronze hair walking away from me. No, that wasn't her. It was a tall boy, probably a junior. He walked with a dark-haired girl next to him, their arms linked. Besides, his hair was straight, not curly. Even though I could only see his back, I couldn't remember seeing him before. I didn't remember seeing anyone with that exact shade of hair before, except her. Weird.

I made way as a huge, buff, blond-haired boy pushed his way through a couple of skinny, gothic-looking sophomores that I didn't know. He passed me, and I noticed that people were giving him a wide berth. That wasn't surprising, looking at those bulging muscles of his.

I slowly made my way to my locker. I entered the combination into the lock. 7-2-0-3-8, the same number that was the last part of my computer password. I gathered my math book, science fair folder, and grammer book. I unzipped my black backpack, with it's purple pockets, and dumped them in, along with my pencil case. Straightening up, I closed the locker door and reset the combination lock. Pushing my way through a group of freshmen, I entered my homeroom class. I put my backpack on top of my desk. Hopefully nobody would steal it. As everybody was chatting by their friends' desks, I made my way over to Sarah's desk. She was bent over, digging in her overstuffed backpack.

"Hey, Sarah." I said as casually as I could. I couldn't wait to tell her about that strange girl. I'd checked when I came in; she wasn't here.

"Amelia!" Sarah exclaimed, turning around and stuffing a few papers back into her backpack. Standing up, she suddenly gave me a few sharp taps—no, not taps, blows—on top of my head.

"Ouch!" I squealed, clutching my head as soon as her hands left it. "I didn't do anything! Why do I get a sanity check?" Unlike most people, I didn't get mad because my best friend just hit me over the head. I'm used to Sarah and her sometimes odd ways. For instance, whenever she got a certain song, phrase, or action stuck in her head, she'd sing, say, or carry it out all day long, or all week long, or all year long. I call them her 'catch phrases'. When Sarah is your friend, you get used to it.

"Because you looked like you needed one." Sarah replied, her green-gold eyes twinkling. "What's on your mind?"

Before I could launch into my story, my homeroom teacher, Mr. Pickford, walked into the room. Apparantly horrified by the disorganized scene before him, he yelled at us to get back to our seats.

"I'll tell you later," I promised Sarah, before I scurried back to my own seat.

While Mr. Pickford stood at the front of the class, red with anger and talking about misconduct, I kept an eye on the classroom door.

And then she came in. That girl. She looked almost normal. Before I knew it, her graceful walk had carried her past. Same as before, she neither looked at me nor acknowledged my existence. She soon reached an empty desk two rows in front of mine and sat down. Her bronze hair was all I could see of her.

Before I knew it, people were leaving. School was over. Mr. Pickford still looked furious, so I didn't have a chance to talk or say goodbye to Sarah as she left. Sarah's mother always took her home, since she lived further away than I did from the school. I always walked home. My mom had work, and she was to busy to pick me up. Anyway, Castle Rock was a small town, and I knew my way.

I purposely stayed longer than I had to, watching the bronze-haired girl. I wanted to see if she walked home, or took a car. No, she just sat there, watching everyone else leave, taking no notice of me. Her chocolate eyes swept over me as if I wasn't even there. It was starting to get a little annoying.

Suddenly, with no visible prompt that I could see, the girl jumped up from her chair, tucking it in smoothly in the same movement. She swung her light blue backpack off the desk and onto her shoulders. She walked sinuously to the classroom door and turned right when she left it.

Without thinking, without even fully realizing what I was doing, I swung my own backpack off the desk. Still struggling to get my arms through the holes, I raced out of the classroom and down the hallway she'd taken. There were several people still there. I pushed past them, determined to follow that girl. Even though I knew that stalking people was weird and wrong, I just couldn't resist.

I reached the end of the hallway just in time to see a door close behind her. Before it could close with a clang, I squeezed my way through it, into the windy parking lot. My hair swirled about my face wildly. The girl was walking across the parking lot to a silver car. I didn't know much about cars, but I knew that that one in particular was pretty expensive. It's silver paint gleamed in the meager sunlight, and it's tinted windows showed that there were a lot of people inside.

The copper-haired girl opened the front passenger door and slid in. I squinted my eyes as I tried to see past the dark windows. How many people were there in there? I didn't have a chance to count because the car purred smoothly to life in that instant. It pulled out of the parking space and, jet black tires spinning, drove off. I was left alone, looking kind of dumb. At that moment, I randomly remembered that I'd forgotten my red sweatshirt in Gym. I'd have to search the lost-and-found tomorrow.

I sighed as started to head home. I didn't have a chance at following that car. And not just the car. The girl. She was so elusive! She didn't even seem human. I wanted to talk to her, to find out more about her, but she didn't seem to want to talk to me. Was she sorry that she'd helped me up in Gym? Probably.

There was no doubt about it.

Something was up.


	3. Chapter 3: Thoughts

**Yay! Chapter 3 has arrived! I hope you like it! Going back, I discovered several grammatical errors in Chapter 2! *gasp* Hopefully they won't drive me insane. Hopefully. Anyway... for the disclaimers... I don't own a lot of things, including Twilight, chicken casserole, the news channel, baked radishes, and Purina cat food. The only things I own are Amelia Rose and Marbles. And a few other characters I invented myself. Enjoy the chapter, R&R! **

When I arrived at home, my thoughts were no more untangled than they had been at school. To add to the mental burden, I had loads of math homework, a grammar worksheet, and a science fair paper due tomorrow. It was going to be a busy night. At least I was almost done with the science fair paper!

Digging my house key out of my jeans, I inserted it into the lock and turned the knob. The door swung open to reveal the cozy but simple home that I shared with my mother. My father lived in Chicago, where his job was. When he had enough, he sent money home for us. He usually didn't have enough.

I closed the door behind me. My sweatshirt being somewhere in the lost-and-found, I had basically frozen to death on the way home. The house wasn't much better. I dumped my backpack next to the stairs and went over to the thermostat. Why was it set at such a low temperature? I nudged it up several degrees higher, wondering halfheartedly if there were icicles growing on the staircase.

I entered the kitchen, calling my cat Marbles' name. **(By the way, Marbles is styled after my sweet cat, Elvis. I don't know why I chose the name Marbles. Also, Marbles is a lot lazier than Elvis is!)** He usually hung out on the kitchen counter, and he was there this time. Marbles opened one large green eye to regard me imperiously. Deciding that I was actually worth his attention, he raised himself to his paws. Marbles' dark grey fur gleamed in the sunlight. The grey almost looked blue in the sun. Slowly, Marbles walked across the counter, stretching one leg at a time. With Marbles' regal airs and lofty expressions, it was comical to see his plump, furry belly.

I gathered him up in my arms, burying my nose in his fur. He smelled like nothing else in the world, like nothing I could describe. Marbles squirmed, mewling for his food. I put him down on the floor and, at his glaring command, poured a cup of Purina cat food into his bowl, which was located next to the refrigerator. Marbles immediately buried his nose in his food bowl and ignored me.

Feeling a bit more cheerful, I dragged my backpack up the stairs and into my room. My room was decorated mainly in purple, which was my favorite color. The bedspread and pillowcase were lavender, as were the rug on the floor and the lamp on my desk. I walked over to my desk and took everything out of my backpack. I stacked my math and grammar books on the desk, and put my science fair stuff and my pencil case on top. Sitting on the worn grey desk chair that had belonged in my dad's office—now my mother's art room—I sighed. I really didn't want to start my homework.

Trudging downstairs again, I walked into the kitchen. Marbles was still eating. I think he ate about 30% of the day and slept for 60% of it. The last 10% of his time went to doing other activities, such as going to the bathroom.

Opening the refrigerator, I wrinkled my nose thoughtfully as I regarded the contents. Potato salad. Green beans. Chicken casserole. Baked radishes—_eew_. Out of all the options, I chose a bit of chicken casserole and a dollop of potato salad for dinner. My mom wouldn't be home for a while. We rarely had dinner together, unless it was a weekend. I tossed the food into the microwave and washed my hands using the 'daisies and clean cotton' antibacterial hand soap that my mom loved.

As I waited for the meal to heat up, I let my mind wander to thoughts that I had tried to ignore all the way home. The bronze-haired girl. Who was she? I really wanted to get to know her. Maybe tomorrow I could talk to her. But wouldn't it be embarrassing if she ignored me again? And besides, a pretty, sporty girl like her was sure to get sucked in by the popular crowd, and I definitely couldn't compete with that.

_Ding!_** (No, Vampiregirl8484, it is not what you think!) **The microwave announced triumphantly that its job was done.

I took the food out, threw away the paper towel I had put over it so that no unfortunate explosions would stain the insides of the microwave, and sat down at our wooden, four-person table. I poured myself a glass of milk and put that down too. I gathered a knife and fork and sat down to eat.

As I put the first bite in my mouth, the phone rang. Rolling my eyes, I got up to answer it.

"Hello?" I asked, hurriedly swallowing my first too-hot bite of casserole.

"Amelia, honey? Is that you?" my mom's voice reached my ears.

"Mom, who else would it be?"

"I'm just checking, baby. I wanted to let you know that I'll be home later tonight. Bethany's on vacation this week and they need me overtime in the office. Is that okay?"

"I guess."

"I wish I could come home, too, but the doctors need me. What are you having for dinner?"

"Nothing fancy…just some leftover casserole and that potato salad you made."

"Why don't you try some of those baked radishes? You said you liked them!" my mom said.

I tried to hide my horror at the very thought. I'd only said I liked the radishes so that I wouldn't upset Mom's feelings. "No, I think I'm good."

"Do you have a lot of homework?"

"Yeah, but I'll probably finish it before you come home."

"Okay, baby. I need to go. Don't go to bed too late!"

"Bye, mom."

I hung up the phone and returned to my food. My mom worked as a receptionist at the doctor's office. The pay wasn't stellar, but it kept us afloat, in more ways than one.

As I ate, I thought about that strange girl. She kept popping up in my thoughts, her bronze-hair swirling around her as she ran after an invisible soccer ball—soccer balls didn't exist in my imagination.

After I finished eating, I put my plate, glass, and utensils in the sink. It was almost completely dark outside now. I hummed to myself as I locked the back door, the basement door, and the front door. My mom had her own key, so she could get in on her own.

Marbles was—_surprise!__—napping on the couch; I scooped him up in my arms and walked up the stairs to my room. I put him on my desk, next to my secondhand Windows computer. Reluctantly, I opened my math book, unzipped my pencil case, got a piece of paper, and picked up my pencil._

_Amelia Rose,_ I wrote at the top of the paper, followed by the date, my homeroom teacher, and the assignment.

*~*

About two hours later, I was checking my email. I was done with my homework, although I was doubtful that I'd gotten too many right on my math.

I opened the small desktop icon with a postage stamp on it. Then I typed in my password and username. My unread messages popped up on the screen. There were five, all from Sarah. I opened the first one, to reveal about a million '_lol_'s copied and pasted over and over again, and the lyrics to a song I knew only too well.

_Amelia is a kitty-cat,_

_From la-la land,_

_How to sleep and how to yawn and how to be a cat,_

_Amelia comes to sleep on the couch whenever we may need her,_

_Amelia will sleep on your couch too if you just make us leave her!_

It was Sarah's own personal invention, an annoying song styled to the tune of "Barney is a Dinosaur". I clicked the 'reply' button and wrote back a saucy reply, complete with the same song, except that her name was inserted instead of mine.

I opened the next. It had a link, and I clicked it. Up came up a webpage about… vampires! I rolled my eyes. Sarah was obsessed with Dracula, with vampires. She was always sending me links to this sort of thing. For Halloween, she was going to be a vampire. She'd read every vampire book in existence, and was always trying to make herself vampire-ish. Me? I wasn't really a fan of vampires. Something about red-eyed, pale-skinned, fanged blood-drinkers wasn't that appealing to me.

I closed the link and opened the next email. Another vampire website, this one about vampire legends. The next email contained a quiz that was designed to figure out whether you were a vampire or not. I took it, and I wasn't. A big surprise!

I opened the last email, expecting another link to something I wasn't interested in. Instead, I was greeted by the words,

_Amelia, do you know when our English essay is due? I want to finish it soon! Guess what I'm writing mine about? Vampires!_

_Sarah_

Wait, what? English essay? I suddenly felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. I'd completely forgotten about it! I reached down to dig around in my backpack. I pulled out a small object, a homework planner that my mother had given to me at the start of the year. I was usually too busy to really write in it, but if there was a long-term project due, I usually jotted it down to remember it.

Sure enough, it was there, scrawled into one of the lines on the page.

_English: Essay on mythical creature due next Monday._

Of course, I'd written down the assignment, and forgotten to check the planner later. Since I had forgotten, I had exactly one week to finish the essay. Now that I searched my memory, I could remember my English teacher, Mrs. Dianes, assigning it last Friday. We were supposed to research a mythical creature and write about it. Of course, my best friend was doing vampires.

I groaned. It was too late to start the essay today—I was already pretty tired of schoolwork. I replied to the email, telling Sarah that the essay was due Monday. I sent it, and then sighed.

Shutting down the computer, I stuffed all my schoolbooks into my backpack and zipped it up. It was dark outside; I felt marginally uncomfortable. I was used to being alone at home during the night, but I was always very alert.

Marbles was now sleeping on the desk, one paw stretched out to touch the computer keyboard. I pushed back the chair and walked downstairs. Since I didn't want to go to bed, I flopped down onto the couch and turned on the TV. I didn't usually watch that often, but I wanted to stay up until my mom got home.

The weather channel was on. As I watched the weatherman smilingly explain that tomorrow was going to be very cloudy and drizzly, I mulled over what I was going to do tomorrow. I was going to go to that girl and say hello. If she paid attention to me, great. If she didn't… I would know who to avoid from now on.


	4. Chapter 4: Renesmee

The next day, after a quick breakfast composed of Cheerios and a glass of orange juice, I grabbed my backpack, kissed my mom and Marbles goodbye, grabbed the house key, and ran down the porch steps and onto the sidewalk.

I adjusted my backpack straps and broke into a jog to warm myself up. Just as the weatherman had promised, the skies were cloudy and dark. I was wearing a worn jean jacket, since my sweatshirt was lost and my mom wouldn't let me go out without something else on.

Before long, I reached the school parking lot and then reached my classroom. I hadn't slept in today, so I wasn't late!

I took the stuff I would need for Algebra II out of my backpack and locker—my math book, my pencil case, ruler, compass, and a bunch of other stuff I didn't really care about, including the book I was reading for English. Then I entered homeroom.

One quick scan told me that neither Sarah nor the bronze-haired girl was here… yet. I was surprised—Sarah was usually pretty early. Maybe she was late.

I put my math stuff on my desk and sat down. I still had around fifteen minutes until the bell rang. Maybe I should read. I wasn't to enthusiastic about that particular idea. My English teacher-assigned book was A Tale of Two Cities. I absolutely hated it. In my opinion, the hero was stereotypically gallant and handsome, and the heroine was a damsel-in-distress Mary-Sue. Whatever. I didn't feel like reading.

"Hey, Amelia," I heard a voice behind me. I turned around. It was Emily, one of my other friends. One of her hands twisted a strand of poker-straight dark blond hair as her brown eyes looked questioningly at me.

"Hey!" I said. "I didn't know you were here yet."

"I woke up early. Do you know where Sarah is? I have to tell her something." Emily replied.

"I don't think she's here yet." I answered, throwing a glance at Sarah's empty desk.

"Oh. That's too—" Emily said, but, impulsively, I interrupted.

"What do you think of the new girl?"

"Huh? The pretty red-blonde one?" she asked.

"Yeah. Do you know her name?"

"Dunno, Mr. Pickford said yesterday that it was Renayza or Renassa or something weird like that."

I nodded. "Listen, I'm going to run down to the lost-and-found and look for my sweatshirt."

"Sure," she nodded as I left my seat. I still had a lot of time until math started—might as well do something useful.

I walked down the hall, which was rapidly filling up. So her name was Renassa. Or Renayza. In some ways, a weird name would fit her. A person like her couldn't be named Mary or Anna. It just wouldn't seem right.

I turned right, then left, heading toward the teacher lounge, where the lost-and-found was. I walked past a group of boys who were plotting a raid on the lounge soda machine. I secretly cheered them on, hoping for a bit of excitement.

I walked through a doorway, into another hallway where a large box labeled "Lost & Found" sat. And I almost had a heart attack. I almost _died_.

Because standing over the box, holding a red sweatshirt that looked awfully like mine was the bronze-haired girl. Chickening out, I backpedaled wildly, doing my very best to inconspicuously escape.

However, it wasn't hard to hear the scuffle my shoes made on the floor, especially in an abandoned hallway. She turned, still holding my sweatshirt.

"Oh!" she said, surprised when she saw me, but not for long. "Hi. I'm Renesmee. Renesmee Cullen."

I unintentionally made a strange sound in my throat. It could have been anything from a whimper to a very muffled screech. Her face was the same, the same way I remembered it. Her hair wasn't the same, though. It didn't all hang down freely as it had yesterday. She'd taken the top layer and done it up in a flattering twist. It looked stunning.

Finally I managed to speak past my amazement, embarrassment, and inexplicable fear. "I-I-I'm Amelia. Amelia R-Rose." I stuttered, sounding like a dope, even to myself.

She glanced with her gorgeous eyes toward my sweatshirt, and then held it out to me. "I believe this is yours."

"Y-Yeah. How did you… know?" I asked. I couldn't seem to make my legs move to walk forward and reach out my arms.

"I saw you wearing it yesterday. In Gym." she—_Renesmee_—replied. A flicker of confusion marred her gaze as she realized I still hadn't taken any measures to reclaim my sweatshirt. Hesitantly—though still, somehow, decisively—she took a few steps forward.

The fluidity of her step made my breath catch. It belonged on a catwalk, not in a normal school like this one. Like a robot, I reached out my arms and took my sweatshirt.

My eyes must have been as large as saucers, because she asked, "Are you all right?"

"Fine, f-fine." I replied. For the first time in two days, I noticed what she was wearing. A fashionista or shopaholic would have taken it in more informatively than I did, but I was smart enough to know that these clothes weren't just any clothes. They definitely weren't your typical Hollister hoodie or Aeropostale jeans. Oh no, these were something that didn't belong in that world. She wore a dark purple sweater dress thing with curly designs embroidered near the bottom. She also wore lighter purple leggings and cute boots. On her neck she wore a silver-chain necklace with a delicate charm in the shape of a flying lark with its wings spread wide. In it's minuscule clawed feet, the lark held a single, ornate rose that was impossibly detailed. The entire necklace looked like something out of an 18th century jewelry store.

All in all, the closest thing I'd seen that I could compare to her clothing was in an Urban Outfitters magazine, but that didn't even come close. She made my jeans and dark green tunic shirt (which was actually pretty expensive itself) look like… well…nothing!

"You're in Mr. Pickford's homeroom, right?" she asked, but something told me she already knew the answer. Was she just talking to make conversation?

"Yeah," I said. "Uh… do you… live around… here?" I sounded like a half-wit.

"Yes. My family moved in only around a week ago, and now I go to school here."

"Oh." What do I say, what do I say, what do I say? "What math class are you in?"

"Ms. Henderson. You?"

"I'm in Algebra II. Mrs. Yolanda."

"Okay." Awkward pause. "Well, I goes we'd better get back to class." Renesmee said. I turned and followed her out. A strange, sweet perfume lingered in the air behind her.

As I walked beside her during the long, awkward, embarrassing walk back to the classroom, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction. I'd met her! I _knew_ her! Her name was Renesmee Cullen, she live near here, and she dressed like a supermodel.

But I'd made a fool of myself. She probably thought I was as dumb as a rock. If only I could read her mind. She simply strolled down the hall, looking pretty much at ease. She—

No, not _she._

Renesmee.


	5. Chapter 5: Strange

**Ok, before I start I want to say I am extremely sorry for the lack of update in the past few, uh, months. I've been really busy with school, science fair, and my life. The longer stories I'm writing aren't going too well, either. Still, life is good.**

**Again, I don't own anything except Amelia Rose... and Marbles. I don't own Twilight. I don't own Renesmee. And as much as I wish it—and I do wish it—I don't own Prince Caspian.**

**Excuse me while I go take control of my emotions. **

**RENESMEE POV:**

It was only my second day at this new school, and I'd already encountered someone who... well, someone who _fascinated_ me. Of course, all humans were fascinating. I was so different from them—who would have thought I was half human myself? But this girl, Amelia, she was different.

My teacher, Ms. Henderson, prattled on and on about quadratic equations and monomial formulas. I really could care less. I'd learned it all before. What I was interested right now was Amelia. I absently fingered the wings of the lark necklace around my neck.

_What are you thinking about?_ It was Edward. He was across the classroom, sitting at a desk very close to mother—_Bella_! I kept forgetting that that was what I had to call her. The human children would think I was strange if I accidentally called someone only a few years older than me mother.

_Renesmee_... the thought came from Edward. _You're thinking about that girl again, aren't you?_

_Why did you just ask me what I was thinking about if you already know?_ I asked, slightly annoyed. My father was great, but he was just poking fun at me now. The power of reading thoughts was wonderful, but he often used it to annoy me.

_Just being polite_, he murmured. _The teacher is going to ask you a question. You'd better listen to her._

Reluctantly, I looked at Ms. Henderson. She was writing an equation on the board— (x-5)(y-15) + 37=0 **(a random equation I came up with, do not kill me if it makes no sense)**.

"Renesmee, can you solve this for us?" she asked, holding the marker out towards me.

I rose fluidly out of my seat and—fully aware of the eyes of every student on me—walked to the whiteboard. I solved the problem quickly, circling the answer and capping the marker with a flourish. Mrs. Henderson looked surprised at the speed at which I had solved the problem. As I returned to my seat, she began to explain my answer to the other students.

_You have to be a little slower when you solve problems. If you solve them too fast, the humans will become suspicious and think you're a genius._ Edward said to me.

_I am pretty much a genius_, I joked. _And I like going fast._

_I know. So do I. Playing baseball helps you keep your sanity._

_You should have seen how slow I was in Gym yesterday! I felt like I was moving backwards, but I could tell all the humans thought I was fast._

_Speaking of Gym, we need to talk about that girl._

_What? I can make friends, can't I? Just because the rest of you stay aloof and unfriendly and never sit with anyone at lunch doesn't mean I can't!_

_You're right. You're young, and I want you to have human experiences. I just don't want anything to happen... again._

_What happened yesterday was an accident!_ I protested. _I don't think she even realized what had happened._

_All the same, it's too dangerous for you to get too close—mentally and physically—to a human. We can't risk them figuring out what we are, especially what _you_ are. I had enough trouble with your mother. _

The corner's of Bella's perfectly shaped mouth turned up. She must have known we were talking about her. Edward's hand twisted around hers under the desk, and they gave each other a loving look.

I ignored the mushiness—I was never like that with Jacob! I returned to the matter at hand. _I swear it was almost like she extracted the thoughts out of my mind_, I said thoughtfully. _I didn't give them to her. It was almost like she read them from my mind._

_What? That's impossible._ Edward answered flatly. _She is human. The only human I ever met who could control, react, or block the powers of a vampire was your mother. That was a one-in-a-million sort of thing._

_I wouldn't be so sure. Maybe it's twice-in-a-million. Don't you think it's worth investigating, at least a little?_

Edward gave a mental sigh. _Fine. You can talk to her and tell her a little bit about yourself, but don't give any hints or any clues as to what we are. Any, do you hear me? _

_I hear you._

_And make sure that you don't give her your thoughts again. _

_What if she takes them from me?_

_Then we'll talk. _

**Ok, big weight off my shoulders! Whoops, that sounds stupid. You won't believe it, but writing sometimes makes my brain feel tired. Anyway, READ AND REVIEW! **


	6. Chapter 6: Revelations

**Hi guys! The next chapter is here. I'd go as far as to say this is a pretty big one. I feel-and I'm sure others feel as well—that the story is going too slow. I'm all about realistic pacing, but since even I think it is rolling too slow, that probably means I was procrastinating because I had no ideas.**

**Oh, and speaking of ideas, check out my profile and go to Updates**** to observe some of the plot bunnies that have been running loose inside my head. **

**Anyway, I've got the shadowy outline of some form of plot in my head so hopefully things will go a lot faster and you'll be satisfied. :)**** Also, school is done so I'll have more time to write. Oh, and thanks to VampireGirl8484 for giving helpful ideas.**

**As always I don't own Twilight, ketchup, squishy amoebas, or Edward Cullen's piano.**

**Oh, and we're back to Amelia's POV.**

**Amelia's POV**

"Sit with me at lunch?"

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. Of course, I'd been _thinking_ them, but that didn't mean I was ready to say them. How embarrassing. What if she said no?

Renesmee and I were in the hallway, walking to Science. I'd been walking alone, thinking about how much math homework I had, when she'd caught up with me and asked me where our next class was. I found it hard to believe she didn't know—something told me she was trying to make conversation. Now she was walking beside me, her bronze hair bouncing with her walk, an awkward walk that was seeming to take forever. And then I'd said those stupid words, and made it even more awkward. Maybe she already had other friends that she wanted to sit with.

"Sure." she said after just one millisecond of hesitation.

Really? Was she just saying that to be polite? I was genuinely surprised that she had agreed, that she hadn't made a legitimate—or illegitimate—excuse.

Then I realized she was waiting for me to speak.

"Uh, OK, thanks." I answered hesitantly. What was I thanking her for? Sitting with me? "I guess I'll… meet up with you in the lunchroom or something, then."

"Sounds great!" she answered, flashing a dazzling smile and revealing her pearly teeth.

Suddenly someone stepped out from an adjoining corridor. My stomach lurched uncomfortably as I recognized Ivy Lichenete, a girl from my class. And she wasn't just any girl—she was the cruelest, most popular, most gossipy girl in my class. And right now she was staring daggers at me.

Renesmee didn't really seem to notice, she just kept walking. We weren't the only ones in the corridor—she probably still thought of Ivy as just a normal student, not as a gossipy, rumor spreading pretty girl.

"Hey," said Ivy. I guess she could be called pretty—her thick, straight, fiery red hair and green eyes were attractive enough, although she was nothing compared to the girl beside me—but that was only on the outside. On the inside she was a coiled snake, ready to lash out at any person and poison them with her mean words.

Renesmee looked up. "Hi," she replied. Was that caution I heard in her tone?

Ivy tossed her hair and strode forward. "I'm Ivy Lichenete. I know you're Renesmee Cullen, the new girl. Where you from?" As she spoke, she linked her arm around Renesmee's, as if they were old friends, and started walking. I kept up with them for a few steps, but then stopped. Renesmee was busy answering Ivy's question. She didn't seem at all comfortable with Ivy's familiar gestures, but she seemed too busy to pay attention to me. Did she even have the option of paying attention to me? And Ivy certainly wasn't going to miss me. As I stood in the corridor, with the strong sensation of being left in the dust, Ivy looked over her shoulder at me, just a quick look. A quick look with enough venom to kill a dinosaur. It was a look that I understood. It was a look that said _stay away from her, you misfit, or else!_

_*~* _**(Oh! I recently realized that is a smiley thing you send in emails. Oh well, I used it in a previous chapter so I guess I must stick with it. It symbolizes time passing.)**

Had I really been stupid enough to think that Renesmee and I could be friends? Could I, of all people, be her friend when there were people like Ivy around? Ivy only wanted to made friends with the pretty people, the ones that had _popularity_ written all over them. And when Ivy wanted something, she got it. I'd seen it happen last year, with Marissa Davis. Marissa had been new that year, and a pretty friendly girl. I'd talked to her a few times. Then Ivy discovered her and decided that she was pretty enough to join the jolly gang, and she'd 'made friends'. Marissa had gone from nice new girl to makeup-wearing gossip girl in months. Now she was Ivy's second-in-command. Was that going to happen to Renesmee? Was she going to become part of Ivy's cult?

Something told me that Renesmee was smarter than that, that she wouldn't be fooled by Ivy's 'charm'. But it wasn't guaranteed. Ivy was a much more viable friend option than I was. I was bumbling and awkward while she was much more... well... appealing as a friend.

I picked up a pair of plastic tongs and dropped a couple mini tomatoes onto my plate, along with some cucumbers and some lettuce. I squeezed some dressing over the top, and added olives. I wasn't too hungry today, so I'd decided to have a light lunch.

I was in the crowded cafeteria, picking my lunch out of the help-yourself salad counter. I grabbed a carton of apple juice and made my way over to my table—dodging what seemed to be a macaroni-and-cheese accident on the floor.

Emily was there, along with a few other friends, including Addy and Karen. There was still no Sarah present—she had to be sick today.

"Hey guys," I said as I sat down. I made an effort to be cheery—no use sulking over something that I should have seen before.

I was listening to Addy tell us the latest news about her adorable new Golden Retriever puppy when I saw the two of them enter the cafeteria.

Ivy was still leaning close to Renesmee. As I watched, Ivy reached over to brush a piece of Renesmee's hair, then held it up to the light, obviously marveling at the beautiful color.

_That's right Ivy, you suck-up. You'd say anything… _I thought angrily.

Renesmee was holding a light blue lunchbox with a shoulder strap. She had obviously brought her own lunch. Ivy hadn't though, so she lined up to get one, and Renesmee finally had freedom. I saw her scan the heads of the mob in the cafeteria, and then she fixed her eyes on me. Smiling, she walked over.

Wait! She wasn't going to sit with Ivy? Why?

"Hey there," she said, and sat down right across from me, in an empty space.

"Hi!" I said! I was worried, but excited. Did this mean I still had a chance?

"You didn't think I'd forget, did you?" she asked. She seemed rather at ease, more comfortable with me than before.

I noticed that my other friends were staring, so I introduced them to Renesmee. They didn't seem to be too uncomfortable, not like I had been when I'd first met her. They continued with their conversation, not trying to block Renesmee out, but not really making an effort to include her, which was fine with me._ I_ wanted to talk with her.

Suddenly, as I looked toward Renesmee again, I noticed Ivy holding her lunch tray, staring at our table with a look of utmost fury on her face. I gulped. _Please don't let her think I invited her, please let her think she came by herself, please, _I pleaded silently. Wait, I _had_ invited Renesmee to come sit with me. Great.

After staring at me for several seconds, Ivy turned her back and stomped away. My stomach lurched painfully. What was she going to do to me?

I looked back at Renesmee, who was looking at me. There was nothing I could do now.

"So, tell me a little about yourself, Amelia." she said, biting into a sandwich.

"Well, what do you want to know?" I was surprised, because it was suddenly so easy to talk to her. It seemed like I'd gotten over my little awkwardness.

"Do you have any siblings, any pets?"

"I don't have any brothers or sisters, but I do have one cat. He's called Marbles, and he's real fat and lazy." I smiled.

She smiled too, taking another bite of her sandwich. That reminded me that I had food in front of me too. I speared a tomato at the end of my fork, hoping it wouldn't squirt, which it didn't.

"I have no pets, but a lot of siblings," she said after a short pause. "They're sitting over there—at that table." She pointed with her head to the left.

I followed her point and my gaze landed on a table with six people, all alone. They sat there staring in different directions, none of them really seeming to be talking. What struck me about them was the strange, pale pallor of their skin—it almost looked like it was bleached, and it seemed to glow ever so slightly. They all looked different—their hair colors, at least—but the thing that was the same about all of them was that they all had a peculiar eye color—a strange amber-ish hue. They were also all perfect—their physical features were flawless and gorgeous.

Were they the people I'd seen in the fancy car the other day? Could they even all fit? All six of them, along with Renesmee, seemed like a pretty tight squeeze.

I looked out of the corner of my eye at Renesmee—there was no mistaking they were her family—they possessed the same mysterious quality she did, but it was intensified, somehow, in them. Or was it just because I knew Renesmee?

"The ones on the far left are Rosalie and Emmett," Renesmee said, gesturing to a perfect golden-haired girl and a muscular but graceful-looking boy. I recognized him as the boy I'd seen in the hallway the other day. "Across from them are Alice and Jasper." The tiny, pixie-like girl with the inky black hair, and the handsome boy next to her immediately fascinated me. Finally, Renesmee said, "The ones next to them are Edward and…Bella."

These two interested me the most. I was sure they were the couple I had seen in the hall the other day. The boy, Edward, had hair that was a beautiful color—Renesmee's color, I realized with a small shock. None of the others looked like one another—except the eyes, the pale skin, and the flawless beauty—but Renesmee and Edward had the same copper hair. And the girl—Bella. She was quite pretty—with smooth brown hair and an open face. She also looked a little like Renesmee, but it was not in a way I could describe.

"This might give you a shock, but they're all together." Renesmee said, breaking through my thoughts. "Rosalie and Emmett, Alice and Jasper, and Bella and Edward. No, they're not all related!" she assured me, seeing the shock flit across my face. Then she spent the next couple minutes telling me who was adopted, who was the son of their 'father', Carlisle's, brother, who was their 'mother', Esme's sister's daughter, and so on. I didn't know if I'd remember all the information, what with all the names and all. I decided to ask another question.

"Where do you live?" I asked. "What neighborhood?"

"Painter's Ridge," she said. "The big houses on top of the hill."

"Oh!" I answered, surprised. "That's really close to my house!"

She laughed once, a beautiful sound, like silver bells tinkling. I put a forkful of lettuce and a cucumber into my mouth and chewed, wondering what to ask next. "It's like this is 20 Questions or something," I burst out suddenly, laughing.

"Yes," she answered. "It's my turn." She took an apple out of her lunchbox and cupped it in her hands as she thought of her next question. **(Make the connection? Holding an apple in your hands? Twilight? I am clever! :) Actually, I accidently put that and then realized its implications.****)** "What's your favorite food?" she asked finally. "That's boring, but…"

I thought about that for a while. "I love Cheetos," I said. "And tomatoes," I said, brandishing one on my fork. "I don't really have a favorite food, I like lots."

"I'm the same way."

So it went on, our quizzing. Before long, I'd eaten my salad and was draining the last of my apple juice. She'd opened a small drinking container and downed the contents. "Cranberry juice," she said, as she wiped a few drops off her face with a napkin. The cranberry juice was red, red as roses, against the white napkin that she crumpled up and threw in the trash behind her. "Another one of my favorite drinks."

Just then, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. I got up and stacked my tray, hurrying to get to my next class.

*~*

_I was at lunch again with Renesmee. We were talking, but since this was a dream, I couldn't control what was coming out of my mouth. Not that it mattered._

_She was drinking something, drinking out of that small container. I'd just asked her what her favorite drink was—another random question. Just then, something changed._

_The atmosphere of the cafeteria turned cold, quiet. I could no longer hear the chatter of the other students. As I turned my head, a sudden needle of fear piercing my heart as I saw Renesmee's siblings—the other Cullens—staring at us... at me. They all had very strange expressions—like they were very hungry, and food was just out of their grasp. _

_With a jolt of shock, I noticed their eyes. They were all red—crimson… red like roses. With a sharp stab of intuition, I realized my dream had suddenly become a nightmare._

_I looked back at Renesmee, hoping for reassurance of some sort. Fresh horror flooded me like acid. I stifled a scream._

_Renesmee was staring at me. Her eyes were a horrible red, like the eyes of the others. But that wasn't the most disturbing part._

_She was smiling at me, except it was more like a snarl. And her teeth—her pearl-white teeth had transformed into cruel, sharp fangs. At first I thought she was bleeding—there was blood on the table, blood on her chin. But then, as I watched with horrified eyes, she took another gulp of her drink. As she put it down, I saw red everywhere—on her fangs, her chin, her hands, on her tongue, on her lips. I tried to scream, but the sound was choked back in my mouth. I could sense blood everywhere—the stench of it, the sight of it… so red that it hurt my eyes. I felt like…like someone was pushing down on me, trying to make my brain explode. I felt like I was drowning. I couldn't breathe—I couldn't see!_

_Then I heard Renesmee's voice, a soft whisper. I couldn't see her anymore—just red everywhere. Her voice paralyzed me with fear. It was silky, sweet—the voice of a killer. "Blood," she said. "Another one of my favorite drinks."_

I woke up tangled in something. I could barely breathe—it was too hot, too crushing. I fought with all my might to free myself. As I finally ripped my blankets off of me, I heard a desperate keening sound slice through the air. It took several moments for me to realize _I_ was making that sound. _I_ was screaming. The noise was choked off abruptly as I buried my head in my pillow, trying to hold back even more screams. Hysteria threatened to snap my fragile, barely clinging control.

The numbers on my alarm clock showed 2 AM, but I could care less about the time. All I cared about was the conviction, as hard as iron in my mind. I wasn't sure how I knew, but I did.

Renesmee Cullen was a vampire.

**So what do you think? Love it? Hate it? Hopefully you have a few questions… was Renesmee really drinking blood at lunch? And how did Amelia guess what Renesmee was… was it more than just intuition?**

**Don't look at me. I don't know. Or maybe I do. **


	7. Chapter 7: ::BRIEF INTERRUPTION::

**Ok, I know what everyone is going to say! I KNOW that I haven't been on here for a whole year. I doubt that anyone is still following this story because it's been a good long while since I've updated…but if you are still following, then thanks for sticking with me.**

**Soooo… here's the deal. **

**Chapter 7 will be up soon. Technically, it will be Chapter 8 once I post this, but… I promise! If it is not sometime this week, then it will be sometime next week. And guess what… I know what's going to happen in the next chapter (or maybe if it doesn't fit in the next chapter, the one after that). Suffice it to say you won't be bored. Hopefully.**

**Alrighty then… bye for now.**


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